


Hunger

by CatWingsAthena



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: But Jack's still around, Dubious Science, Gen, Mission Fic, So not too long after, Team as Family, non-consensual drugging, set post-3x11 Mac + Fallout + Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 00:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18435662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatWingsAthena/pseuds/CatWingsAthena
Summary: That mission in Denver:The one where Mac and Jack got locked in a room with a camera, again.Or, the one where the Phoenix team totally averted the zombie apocalypse (according to Jack, at least--and he actually might have a point).Or, the one (besides Cairo) that Mac really, really doesn't want to talk about.An evil scientist, a zombie drug, a locked room. This should be interesting...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everybody! This was wasting away in my file of "brain-stories too dark to share" until I watched Mac + Fallout + Jack, and was struck by Jack's total faith that Mac would get them out of there. And I thought of this story I'd been telling myself, and reminded myself that there is no such thing as too dark for this site, and molded it into shareable format (which involved lightening it up considerably and adding some actual substance and plot--look, I wrote plot!), and here we are. Please note that this chapter contains referenced offscreen cannibalism (not at all graphic, but implied--also not involving anyone we know), non-consensual drugging, and brief canon-typical violence. Hope you enjoy!

**???**

**WHEREVER IT IS, PROBABLY NOT GOOD**

Jack came back to consciousness slowly, the woozy, hangover-like feeling pervading his awareness telling him he’d most likely been drugged.

Before he was consciously aware of what he was doing, he was taking stock of his surroundings. He was lying on a cold, hard surface. The air smelled chemical-y—disinfectant maybe?—and, even through closed eyes, Jack could tell that wherever he was was reasonably well lit.

_ Where am I? What happened? Where’s Mac? _

A quiet but very familiar groan from several feet in front of him answered that last question.

Jack’s eyes snapped open. Mac was curled in a ball in the other corner of their room, hands in fists against the ground by his sides, head back, eyes shut, body tense. Every instinct Jack had was telling him to go over there, to find out what was wrong with his kid. Before he could make it two feet, though, Mac’s eyes opened.

“Stop,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “Stay back.”

“Mac, what...” Jack started.

Then, he remembered.

...

**WAR ROOM**

**6 HOURS EARLIER**

“Finally,” said Matty as Mac walked into the room already occupied by Jack, Riley, Bozer, and Leanna. “When I say something’s urgent, I mean it’s  _ urgent _ , Blondie.”

“Traffic,” muttered Mac as he went to stand by the others.

A picture appeared on the screen.

“Meet Dr. Adrian Mitchell,” said Matty. “Head of research at St. Luke Hospital in Denver, Colorado. He set out to develop a drug to help cancer patients going through chemotherapy regain their appetite.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of this,” said Mac. “It’s a ghrelin agonist, right? I mean, among other things.”

“A what now?” asked Jack.

Matty ignored him. “Those  _ other things _ are the issue. We have reason to suspect that someone within his hospital took that drug and modified it to make people aggressive, for use in underground fighting circles. Big problem: the modified version is lethal.  _ Very _ . And not necessarily to the person who took it. Riley?”

“An hour ago,” said Riley, “this video showed up on the internet.”

A video played on the screen of a small room containing two people. One of the people was clearly trying to talk the other down, holding out his hands placatingly. The other was shaking, something building, until he jumped.

Blood sprayed across the room.

Riley cut the video. “It goes on,” she said, “but... I’m pretty sure no one wants to see the rest.”

Matty broke them all out of their thoughts. “Mac, Jack, your mission: infiltrate the hospital, find and destroy the modified drug, find out who made it and bring them in, before this happens to anyone else. Bozer, Leanna, we have intel on where the sale is going down. You two are going to go undercover as the buyers, intercept the sale and give us what we need to take down the whole operation. Riley, you’ll be mission control. Use separate comm systems for Mac and Jac and for Bozer and Leanna—we don’t want you distracting each other. Wheels up in 20.”

...

**ST. LUKE HOSPITAL**

“Okay,” said Riley in Mac and Jack’s comms as they made their way down the hall towards the research department. “Remember, you’re here with the FDA to inspect the facility in light of the recent security breach. Talk to as many people as you can, see if you get a sketchy read on anyone. If you do, let me know.”

“I understand... that you have one of the most advanced cancer research programs in the world here at St. Luke?” said Mac to the researcher leading them—a woman named Dr. Emerson. They’d hoped Dr. Mitchell himself would be able to give them the tour, but no such luck. They’d be meeting him later, though.

“That’s correct,” she said. “We’re working with gold nanoparticles as drug delivery systems and for thermal treatments, and with new drugs that combat some of the more negative effects of traditional chemotherapy.”

“I heard about the new drug Dr. Mitchell invented to help with appetite in chemotherapy patients—the ghrelin agonist?” 

A shadow crossed Dr. Emerson’s face. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Mac and Jack nodded.

“It’s awful that someone would use something meant to help people like that. I assure you, no one who works here could have done such a thing.” Dr. Emerson swiped her card at the door to the lab.

“All due respect, that’s what we’re here to find out,” said Jack as they stepped through.

...

**SITE OF THE SALE**

**JUST AS SEEDY AS YOU’D EXPECT**

“They ever gonna show?” asked Bozer, looking around the alley in which he and Leanna stood.

“They’ll show,” said Leanna. “It’s deliberate. They want us on edge. Let’s not give them that advantage.”

Bozer nodded. He opened his mouth to say something else, but Leanna held up one finger. “There,” she said.

Turning the corner was a man. He walked up to Bozer and Leanna and stood in front of them, just a little too close.

“You’re here about Dr. Mitchell?” the man asked.

“We are,” said Leanna. She’d been told what to say by Matty. “The code is seven-two-mike-four-tango.”

“One-eight-hotel-six-kilo,” the man replied.

“Do you have it?” Leanna asked immediately.

“So eager,” said the man. “I assume that video was demonstration enough, then?”

Bozer nodded. “It was pretty convincing, yeah.”

“We have one caveat,” said Leanna.

“Oh?” said the man. “And what would that be?”

“The lethality is too high. We want the damage to be... a little less  _ permanent _ . Each asset represents a lot of sunk cost, you know. We want to negotiate directly with the one responsible for adapting the drug, see if we can get something more to our liking.”

The man looked confused for a moment. Then, he laughed.

“You don’t have to keep pretending,” he said. “That was just for the preliminary stages. I know what you really want it for. Everything’s out in the open.”

“If you really know,” said Leanna, “then say it.”

The man sighed. “Really? You doubt me? Fine. This drug has far too much potential to be restricted to underground fighting—it could revolutionize war. A dose in your enemies’ water supply, and they’ll tear each other to pieces without you having to do a thing. And it goes beyond traditional warfare—you could take out a city with this. Make whatever kind of statement you want to make,” the man said. “My price is $20 million.”

“But you’re just the middleman,” said Leanna. “I bet I could get a better price by going right to the source.”

The man scoffed. “You know Dr. Mitchell doesn’t—”

He cut off with a yelp and a crackle as Leanna Tased him.

“Riley,” said Leanna as she and Bozer began securing the man and dragging him back to the van. “Dr. Mitchell modified his own drug. And it’s not being used for underground fights—it’s a weapon of war.”

“And terrorism,” said Bozer. “Don’t forget the terrorism!”

“Mac and Jack are talking to him right now,” said Riley. “I’ll have them bring him in.”

...

**ST. LUKE HOSPITAL**

**A LITTLE BIT EARLIER (UNFORTUNATELY)**

“I’m devastated,” said Dr. Mitchell, shaking his head and running his fingers through what was left of his hair. “How someone could do something like this...”

Two hours had elapsed since they’d entered that first lab, and Mac and Jack were starting to get concerned that they’d missed something. They’d talked to nearly every researcher, project manager and lab tech in the building, and no one had set off any alarm bells. They were hoping their talk with Dr. Mitchell would clear things up.

“Dr. Mitchell, can you think of anyone you know who might have wanted to discredit you?” Mac asked.

“Or anyone who badly needed money?” Jack picked up.

“I’m sorry,” said Dr. Mitchell, “no one’s coming to mind.”

Just then, Jack’s stomach growled.

“Have you had lunch?” asked Dr. Mitchell.

“We’ve been busy,” said Mac.

“Oh my, you must be starving. I understand completely, I often skip meals because of my research—ironic, I know, but there you have it. I keep protein bars in my desk, would you like some?”

Mac and Jack accepted the proffered bars and began eating them.

“You know, on second thought,” said Dr. Mitchell, “Dr. Gonzalez might be trying to discredit me. We’ve had our professional disputes—nothing serious, and he hardly seems the type to do something like this, but I wouldn’t want to leave anything out...”

“Thank you,” said Jack. “Tell us about these ‘professional disputes’ with this Dr. Gonzalez, huh?”

“Got it,” said Riley on comms as she started typing.

“Oh, nothing of substance. Dr. Gonzalez was opposed to the particular way I constructed my drug. He felt I was doing things I didn’t understand. I maintained that much of medicine, particularly pharmacology, is doing things we don’t understand. Of course, now it seems he may have been right...”

“This wasn’t your fault,” said Mac. “It’s the fault of whoever modified your drug. It was doing a lot of good in the clinical trials, right?”

“Yes,” said Dr. Mitchell. “I’ve seen patients, children, with severe failure to thrive have everything turned around by this drug. The potential it has—”

The conversation went on in that vein for some time. Mac and Jack pressed for information on potential leads, and got nothing beyond the hint about Dr. Gonzalez. Then, they heard Riley over comms.

“Guys, it’s him,” she said. “Dr. Mitchell modified his own drug. And it’s a lot bigger than we thought. Bring him in  _ now _ .”

“Dr. Mitchell,” said Jack. “We’re going to need you to come back to FDA headquarters with us to answer some quest...” he trailed off as the room started spinning. Jack fought to stay on his feet, but found himself swaying.

“Oh shit,” said Riley. “You two ate something he gave you, didn’t you?”

Jack couldn’t answer, everything was upside down and topsy-turvy and nothing,  _ nothing _ made sense. Where was Mac? Jack could dimly hear Dr. Mitchell saying something about a muscle paralytic, and that wasn’t right, muscle paralytics didn’t make you lose consciousness, and... and...

Jack heard Dr. Mitchell’s voice droning on and Riley’s worried shouts in his ear as the world went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! This chapter contains references to suicidal thoughts that someone isn't having, if that makes any sense? It's hard to explain. Hope you enjoy!

**BACK WHERE WE STARTED**

**_DEFINITELY_ ** **NOT GOOD**

“Ri?” called Jack. “Riles?”

“It’s no good,” Mac gritted. “He took our comms. Gave me a muscle paralytic and you something to knock you out, both in the protein bars, both have... worn off by now.”

“He dosed you, huh,” said Jack, looking at Mac. Mac was sweating bullets, his face was pale, his whole body was shaking, and Jack could see from the pulse in his neck that his heart was beating a mile a minute. Kid really looked terrible, and Jack had seen him look pretty terrible before, so that was saying something.

“Obviously,” Mac hissed. He paused. “Sorry. I’ve got basically the worst case of hanger ever right now, so I might be a little snappy.”

Jack forced a smile. “All is forgiven. How long was I out?”

“What time is it? He didn’t take your watch.”

“3:23.”

“Okay, I looked at a clock when I started noticing symptoms and it said 2:39, so 44 minutes, about. That’s...” Mac trailed off. “That’s a problem.”

“Why?”

“Dr. Mitchell told me how the new drug works. It kicks hunger signaling, predatory drive, and metabolism all into ridiculously high gear. If I don’t get either the antidote or—” he broke eye contact with Jack—“a lot of food in the first hour after symptoms begin, I’m going to die.”

“Well, that’s not happening,” said Jack. “So what’s the plan?”

Mac shut his eyes. “The plan is... um, the plan is... I know where we are. Abandoned nuclear power plant, just outside city limits. Dr. Mitchell and his goons drove us here, locked us in. We’ve only been here about ten minutes. Specifically, we’re in the room where they used to process the nuclear waste—it’s got a time-lock on the door. Won’t open for ninety minutes. Eighty, now. I don’t know how that thing’s still operational, but... I tried the door.”

“How did the waste get in?” Jack asked, and Mac opened his eyes and looked at him. “Can we get out that way?”

“I tried, but the hatch is welded shut. If I had stuff to make thermite I could get us through, but... nothing rusty in here...” Mac cut off with a cry and scrunched his hands in his hair.

“Hey, hey, c’mon, brother. You’re not giving up this easy, now, are you? I’ve seen you pull off miracles in worse shape than this.”

“Jack, it is quite possible that I have never _been_ in worse shape than this!” Mac shouted.

That statement hung heavy in the air for a moment. Then:

“Bullshit,” said Jack calmly. “You’ve been unconscious, haven’t you? Right now, you’re awake and you’re talking to me. You can work with that, I _know_ you can work with that. Now. What’ve you got?”

Mac sighed and squeezed his eyes shut.

Just then, Jack noticed two things.

The first was a camera up in one corner of the room. “Fuckin’ bastard’s _filming_ this?” he said indignantly. “Hey asshole!” he shouted in the camera’s direction. “Last guy who stuck us in a box, it didn’t go so good for him!”

“It didn’t go so good for us either,” mumbled Mac.

“Yeah, well, we’re here, he’s not, and that’s kind of the important bit right now, huh?”

Mac nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I s’pose.” He lifted his head and looked around. “This is the room from the video.”

Jack had been really hoping he was wrong about that. Apparently not.

The second thing Jack noticed was Mac’s pocketknife, on the floor, as far from either one of them as it could be within the confines of the room.

“Hey,” said Jack, gesturing to the knife, “aren’t you gonna want that to... y’know... do whatever it is you’re gonna do?”

“First, I don’t know what I’m gonna do—”

“Yet,” Jack interrupted.

Mac carried on. “And second, don’t act like you don’t know why Dr. Mitchell left that on me.”

“Hey now,” said Jack. “You’re not gonna hurt me. I trust you.”

“But I could,” said Mac in a small voice.

Jack snorted, deliberately not letting the pain he felt at seeing Mac in this much distress through in his voice. “Yeah? Well, I could hurt you, too. Doesn’t mean I’m _gonna_.”

“It’s different,” said Mac. “You don’t... you aren’t... I’m FUCKING HUNGRY!” He broke off, looking stunned. “Sorry, sorry...”

“You got nothing to apologize for,” said Jack gently.

“It’s just... I’m so hungry, and so _angry_ , and I look at you and... and... _God_ , I can’t say it.”

“It’s okay,” said Jack, “you don’t have to.”

Mac stared at him. “How are you not scared of me right now?”

Jack feigned thought for about two seconds. “Hmm, let’s see. Maybe because I’ve seen you work while sleep-deprived, starving, dehydrated, drugged, freezing, overheated, and sometimes all of the above—”

“Freezing _and_ overheated?” Mac said dubiously.

Jack allowed himself a mental smile. He’d been going for exactly that reaction. “Shut up, I’m trying to make a point here! Anyway, I’ve seen you work while your body’s been giving you all kinds of crap, and never _once_ have I seen you let that get in the way of your brain when it counted. I see no reason that should change now.” Jack paused. “If I thought you were going to hurt me, or even if I thought you weren’t going to get us out of here, you know what I’d do?”

“Wh-what?”

“I’d take that knife over there, cut my throat and let you have at it. Spare you the guilt of killing me yourself, make sure you got out of here alive.”

Mac’s expression was utterly horrified. He glanced over at the knife, body making a slight, subconscious movement toward it.

“But _I’m not gonna do that_ . Just like I didn’t shoot myself in that fallout shelter when that whole _one lives, one dies_ crap started up. Not gonna lie, the thought crossed my mind, especially after you got us through the first door and all we got was another damn room. But it was never a serious consideration—because I have absolute faith in you. Faith that no matter what shape you’re in, that big brain of yours is gonna get us out of this mess, and any and all messes in the future.”

Mac stared. “How...”

Jack smiled, a little. “Call it learning from experience.”

Mac took a deep breath, stood up slowly, unsteadily, and paced back and forth in the small confines of the room. “Okay,” he said. “The only way out is through that door. It’s a time lock, which means it won’t open for, oh, seventy-five more minutes, no matter what anyone does, unless—unless—OH!” He grabbed his knife off the floor, then rushed over to the lock. “Time travel!”

“That’s it!” called Jack. “So... what’s the plan?”

Mac managed a small smile. “Old-fashioned time locks like this one are vulnerable to shorting out. If I overload the circuitry in this lock with way too much current, it’ll kill the lock—but first it’ll speed up the clock and unlock the door.”

Jack smiled. “Well, get to it!”

Mac pried the casing off the lock and started to pull out the wires. After a moment, he stopped. “Uh, Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“My hands are shaking.”

Jack’s heart broke a little more. Jack hadn’t been exaggerating about the adverse conditions he’d seen the kid work under, and his EOD tech hands were _always_ steady. For them to be shaking now...

“No problem,” Jack replied. “I’ll be your hands. Just tell me what to do.”

“Alright,” said Mac. “Cut and strip _this_ blue and _that_ red wire, then connect them. Now, give me my knife back and move over to the door.”

Jack did as instructed.

“When I say go, push as hard as you can.”

Jack nodded.

For a tense minute, they waited. Then, they heard a click.

“GO!” said Mac, and Jack shoved the door.

It swung open.

Jack tumbled out, and a moment later Mac followed.

“Okay,” said Jack, “now we find you that antidote.”

Mac looked down.

“What is it?” asked Jack.

Mac was quiet for a moment.

“Dr. Mitchell wouldn’t have brought the antidote with him,” he said. “He’ll still be somewhere in this building, watching us. He’ll know we’ve escaped by now—he’s probably on his way to kill us. Even if I’m wrong about that, the hospital’s a half hour away—there’s no way I’d get to the antidote in time. You should run, try to make it out of here.”

“No way I’m leaving you,” said Jack. “I thought we were clear on that.”

“Jack...”

Whatever Mac had been about to say was interrupted by a figure running down the hallway towards them.

It was Bozer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! If Mac's escape plan seems familiar, that's because I unabashedly "borrowed" it from original!MacGyver. What can I say, coming up with MacGyver plans is hard unless you happen to actually be MacGyver, which I do not. Hope no one minded.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! This chapter contains references to zombies. I think that's it. Hope you enjoy!

“Bozer!” called Jack. “Please tell me you—”

“I have the antidote,” Bozer interjected. Then, he saw Mac. “Oh God...”

Jack let out a breath. “Well, hurry up and give it to him!”

“Arm out,” Bozer said to Mac, who instantly complied. “What time did symptoms start?”

“2:39,” said Mac through clenched teeth as Bozer put a needle in the crook of his elbow and depressed the plunger.

“It’s 3:36 now,” said Bozer, “so we’re cutting it close, but you should be... MAC!”

Mac had collapsed to the floor as soon as the needle was withdrawn from his arm.

“Was that supposed to happen?” asked Bozer, handing Jack a new comm as he did so. “Mac just collapsed.”

“I don’t know,” said Riley over comms. “I didn’t have time to look over this dude’s creepy mad-scientist ramblings. If I were you, I’d get him to a hospital ASAP. Meet me back at the van, I’ll drive you. Leanna, meet us at the hospital when you can.”

“Where’s Leanna?” asked Jack, hoisting Mac over his shoulder and following Bozer along the corridor.

“She’s with Dr. Mitchell,” said Bozer as they half-ran. “He’s... a little tied up at the moment.”

Under many other circumstances, Jack would’ve smiled. As it was, he just nodded. “Good. Tell Leanna to wring  _ everything _ out of that SOB. He could’ve killed Mac.”  _ Might still have _ , no one said.

After an interminably long minute, Jack and Bozer arrived at Riley’s van. They tumbled inside, arranged a very unconscious Mac in the backseat, and situated themselves as Riley took off.

“So, where are we going?” asked Bozer.

“Only one choice,” said Riley. “St. Luke is the only hospital close enough.”

“Whoa, whoa, we are not taking him back to Dr. Crazy’s stomping grounds!” Jack protested.

“We don’t have any other options,” said Riley. “Not unless you want to push the amount of time it takes him to get seen way back. And I hate to be the one to bring this up, but we still have a mission to complete. Dr. Mitchell’s modified drug stores, and all his research notes, are at that hospital. We’ve gotta find a way to destroy them.”

“How we gonna do that with Mac down?” asked Jack.

“Well,” said Bozer, “hospitals have incinerators... right?”

Riley smiled. “Not bad.”

“Hold on a minute,” said Jack. “Are we sure burning the drug isn’t gonna release the stuff into the air, poison everyone who breathes it in?”

“I don’t know,” said Riley. “Mac would, but...”

Silence.

“When we get to the hospital, I’ll look over Dr. Mitchell’s notes,” Riley continued. “Maybe he’ll say.”

Meanwhile, Bozer was taking Mac’s pulse. “Uh, Riley?” he said in a slightly quavering voice.

“I know,” she said. “Flooring it.”

Not soon enough for any of them, but really faster than ought to have been possible considering the laws of the land, they arrived at St. Luke hospital. Jack picked Mac up. “I’ll take him to the ER,” he said. “You two go finish the mission.”

Bozer and Riley nodded. Then they made their way into the hospital and headed to Dr. Mitchell’s office.

...

**DR. MITCHELL’S OFFICE**

“Whoa,” said Riley, looking down the secret passage they’d finally found behind one of Dr. Mitchell’s bookshelves.

“This must lead out of the hospital,” said Bozer. “Explains how he snuck Mac and Jack out without anyone seeing.”

“And where he’s keeping his drug and notes,” said Riley. “Let’s go.”

Making their way down the passageway, they soon came to a room set up like a laboratory, complete with cages of mice. Riley placed her laptop on a table, opened it, and pulled up an old schematic of the hospital.

“We’re in a disused part of the building,” she said. “Dr. Mitchell must have known about this place and arranged to have his office here on purpose.”

“Look,” said Bozer, pointing to the paper strewn across the table. “Batch #21—failure. Incinerated.”

“So the incinerator should work to destroy the drug,” said Riley. “Speaking of which... here it is.” She gestured at a series of vials in a cabinet she’d just opened.

Bozer grabbed a lab coat from near the entryway, tied off the sleeves, and started placing vials of drug into it.

“Nice going,” said Riley.

“You don’t spend two decades hanging out with Mac without learning  _ something _ ,” said Bozer. “When’s the next incinerator cycle start?”

Keys clicked on Riley’s computer. “Five minutes. Entrance is three floors up and half the building away.”

Bozer shoved Dr. Mitchell’s notes into his makeshift bundle, Riley grabbed her laptop, and they raced to the incinerator.

...

“Hurry up!” called Riley. “The door’s about to close!”

“Hurrying!” said Bozer, and tossed the bundle of drug and notes into the incinerator just before the door shut.

“Jack, we did it,” said Riley over comms as the incinerator flamed to life. “Drug store and notes have been destroyed.”

“Good job,” said Jack. “Get down here, now. Nurse just said Mac’s waking up.”

“Mac’s awake,” said Riley to Bozer, and they bolted to the waiting area.

...

“I’m telling you, I  _ am _ his family!” Jack was protesting to a tired nurse, who was patiently trying to explain the hospital’s family-only visitation policy. Jack took in Bozer and Riley’s out-of-breath presence with a glance. “And so are they. Just let us see him.” He paused. “Please.”

“I’m afraid I really can’t do that unless you’re—”

Meanwhile, Riley had pulled something up on her computer. “He is,” she said. “Jack Dalton, next of kin to Angus MacGyver, and here’s the paperwork to prove it.”

The nurse inspected the screen carefully. “All right,” she said. “You can go in. But you two—”

“Are with me,” said Jack. “C’mon. We’re all he’s got.”

The nurse sighed. “Go on in,” she said, after a moment. “All of you.”

Riley and Bozer smiled. “Thank you,” said Bozer.

“For what?” asked the nurse as she led them to Mac’s room.

Mac was lying in the room’s bed, still in his ordinary clothes (minus his jacket), fidgeting with the sheet covering him. He looked intensely bored, but his eyes brightened when he saw his assembled visitors. Then, his eyes dropped, and his face flushed.

“I... I... hey,” he managed to get out. “Did we finish the mission?”

“Hey yourself,” said Jack. “Yes, Bozer and Riley here destroyed all our resident mad scientist’s drug and notes, and Leanna has Dr. Creep himself in custody. How you holding up?”

“Just fine,” said Mac. “Doctor said I was given something that—basically turned my brain’s dimmer switch down too far. They’re still trying to work out what it was,” he said with a slight quirk to his mouth.

“Well, we’ll be long gone by then,” said Jack, after looking around to make sure no medical personnel were within earshot.

“Here’s hoping,” said Mac. “And... um... thank you.”

“Hey,” said Jack. “No problem.”

“No, really,” said Mac. “Thank you. I’m only alive right now because you never gave up, even when... I kinda did. So... yeah.”

Jack nodded. Then, a smile spread over his face. “Hey guys, you know what we just did?”

“What?” asked Bozer.

“We absolutely just stopped the zombie apocalypse!” exclaimed Jack. “I told you it’d be you and me, brother! And you two, and Leanna, of course,” he said to Bozer and Riley. “But seriously, think about it. If that wasn’t a zombie drug, I don’t know what is.”

“I don’t know what’s scarier,” said Riley. “The fact that Jack is saying we just stopped a zombie apocalypse, or that he actually might be right.”

“Wasn’t contagious,” said Mac.

“What’s that?” Jack asked.

“The effects of the drug weren’t contagious. I think contagion is an essential element in any zombie-apocalypse scenario.”

“Well, I... respectfully disagree,” said Jack.

“Hey Leanna?” said Riley over comms. “Where are you at with Dr. Asshole?” she paused. “Leanna’s on her way here. Then we can all go home.”

“Sounds good,” said Mac.

...

**WAR ROOM**

**IT’S GOOD TO BE HOME**

“So, I got to process Dr. Mitchell’s computer,” said Riley as the Phoenix team stood in the war room. “That video of you and Jack in that room? Never existed. And no, I didn’t have to watch it to obliterate it.”

“Good to know,” said Mac.

“You all did very well,” said Matty. “You should be proud of yourselves.”

“Thanks, Matty,” said Jack.

Riley shifted, from foot to foot, looking down.

“What is it?” asked Mac.

“There’s one more thing,” said Riley. “Turns out Dr. Mitchell made a swerve into cancer research because his daughter has leukemia. They were running out of money to pay for her treatments.” She paused, and her face hardened. “It doesn’t excuse what he did. But...”

“Makes it harder to straight-up hate him, doesn’t it,” said Leanna gently.

“Yeah, but out of everything you could do to get money, why would you build a zombie weapon?” asked Jack. “Dude had to have had supervillain leanings from the start.”

“ _ Excuse _ me?” said Matty.

“Um...” said Jack.

Matty gave him a look. Then, she turned back to the team. “Go home, everybody. Get some rest. You’ve earned it.”

...

**MAC’S DECK**

Mac sat in the cooling air, trying not to think about the day’s events.

He wasn’t meeting with much success.

Footsteps brought him out of his thoughts. He recognized the weight and rhythm without having to turn around.

“Jack?” he called. “What are you doing here?”

“My job,” Jack replied. “Making sure you don’t get lost in that rabbit-hole brain of yours.”

“Last I checked, that’s... not your job.”

“My job is keeping you safe. That includes from yourself. You haven’t looked me in the eye since we got out of that room. What’s up?”

“I’m fine.”

“What’s up?” Jack repeated patiently as he plunked down in a deck chair next to Mac.

Mac sighed. “I... I can’t stop  _ thinking _ about it. The whole thing. How it felt. What was going through my head. I... I  _ wanted _ to  _ kill _ you.”

“Hey, hey, you know that wasn’t you,” said Jack. “That was the drug talking. And you saw that video—somebody else got so overwhelmed that they totally lost their senses. You didn’t. I was out for what, ten minutes before I woke up? Ten minutes you were alone with unconscious Jack Dalton. If you were gonna hurt me—if there was  _ any _ part of you that actually wanted that, or if you weren’t strong enough to fight off that drug that was taking over your system—you would’ve done it. But  _ that’s not what happened. _ I’m here because you’re stronger than you think you are, and because the bond between us is stronger than zombification.”

“I was with you until that last bit,” said Mac with a slight smirk.

“There you go,” said Jack, smiling.

They sat in quiet, after that.

Eventually, Jack went home, and Mac went in.

They both went to sleep in a world devoid of zombies.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! I hope you liked this! If you did, please let me know below! Thank you for reading, and I hope you have a great day!
> 
> Note for those who care: an agonist is a drug that mimics the effects of another substance, such as a neurotransmitter or hormone. Ghrelin is sometimes called the "hunger hormone" because of its role in regulating appetite, although it does a lot more than that. I'm choosing to ignore that fact for the sake of this fic.


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